


Love Cannot Describe the Things You Do to Me

by LydiaOLydia



Category: Some Kind of Wonderful (1987)
Genre: 80s movies, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Hands, I'd bet my hands on it, No Plot, Not as smutty as it sounds, Rated M for language, Sorry?, john hughes alert, obscure fandom alert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-11-28 23:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11428461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaOLydia/pseuds/LydiaOLydia
Summary: What happens when the rest of your life is about to begin?Keith and Watts, after.





	Love Cannot Describe the Things You Do to Me

**Author's Note:**

> There's already some great fic here with this (fairly obscure) pairing, but this has been jotted down in my notebook for a while and I wanted to take a break from some longer works.  
> A little plot-free, almost stream of consciousness moment from after the credits roll.

Watts's hands were tiny, but strong and agile, Keith should know that. He's watched her twirl a drumstick and catch it, filled with some kind of vibrating anger he never quite understood until now. She can hotwire a car and do complicated coin flips between her knuckles, but her hands felt different touching him. Tugging at his blazer, then his shirt, trailing up and down his arms.

Her mouth tasted warm and sweet. The smell of leather and perfume hovered around them. Love's Baby Soft maybe? He's going to tease her about that later. Then she pulled at his belt loops, angled him closer to her, and no, he's not going to tease her later after all. Partially because he might die right here.

The red fringe of her gloves tickled, bringing him back to reality.

He broke off the kiss. "What are we doing?"

Watts stepped back, gave him a sly smile, "I don't know, what are we doing, Keith?"

"Don't you think things are moving a little fast?"

"Well, is the condom in your wallet expired? Has it died from lack of hope?" She was being so Watts, joking like it's another Saturday night and they're arguing about pepperoni or mushrooms on their pizza.

He wasn't that stupid. This wasn't her first time. There was Gino, a while ago. Maybe last summer? Older guy, nose ring through his septum. He scared the shit out of Keith, but he bought them cheap beer. Probably could have gotten harder stuff if they asked. Then one day, he was gone. Keith was dumb enough to ask why.

"Yeah, we did the deed. I wasn't impressed. He took in personally," Watts had said it with a shrug as if it was nothing. "Guess it wasn't a love for the ages."

So he knew it wasn't her first time, but it was his and he just didn't want to screw it up.

He took out the wallet, flipped it open, slid out the foil packet with one fingertip. Brand new, actually. Bought it yesterday, but whatever strange hope flickered in his chest then compared nothing to what he felt at this exact moment. He reached for her.

"Wait a second." She took off the earrings. They winked in the dim light.

His shirt and blazer are somewhere in the depths of her room. He'd lost the belt and his pants were unbuttoned. But Watts was still dressed in her chauffeur's uniform. She reached for the top button.

"Allow me." He settled onto her bed. It was the reverse of when they were in the garage. Was that really just this morning? It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Watts hesitated. Scuffed the tip of her boot along the floor. No eye contact. Under all her bravado, she was a little nervous. Good. That meant he wasn't alone.

"You know, I've heard this works a lot better if you're close to each other," he said, mocking her, just a little bit.

"Oh shut up," she said, but she closed the distance between them.

She was near enough he could pull her down beside him, but he didn't. Instead, he took one of her hands in his. 

God, those red leather gloves. He was so used to them, they were almost like a part of her body. Slowly, he slid the left glove off, inch by inch. Her hand felt small and fragile suddenly. He tipped it over, kissed her palm. She sucked in a breath.

"You don't have to do that." Her voice was tight and uncomfortable in the shadows.

"Do what?" He laughed, enjoying her confusion the tiniest bit.

"Be nice. It's weirding me out."

Maybe I want to be nice to you." He took off the other glove, a little faster this time. "Maybe you deserve nice."

"Yeah, well, don't worry. I won't get used to it."

"I want you to get used to it." He carefully placed the two gloves next to the earrings. He tasted at her skin, right between two knuckles.

She sighed a long, fluttering sigh. It was so damn. . . girly. No, it wasn't just girly. It was sexy and this is Watts and it did something to his heart and everything farther south.

***

Keith's hands were big, but gentle. Watts knew that, all right? She knew it like she knew every lick Tommy Ramone has ever played. She watched Keith often enough, always out of the corner of her eye. Sketching with charcoal, delicate shapes taking form under his fingertips. Twisting at carburetor caps and fine-tuning engines. But she never said anything. Ever.

"Always let them chase you, dear." That's what Grandma had said. Why did she even listen to the old bat?

So she had never let her daydreams go too far. Never imagined his hands going from gentle to strong, possessive, grabbing her ass, pulling her down onto his lap. They were still upright on her bed. Okay, this was good. This was manageable. His fingers worked at those shiny buttons, maybe shaking, a little bit. She didn't say anything, just did her best to keep breathing. _In and out. That's the way. You've been fantasizing about this since you were fourteen, so what? Be cool._

Yes, she had some imagination, thank you very much, even though not everyone got off talking about how Picasso explored the realities of fascism with his murals. At least she thought that's what Keith was talking about the other day, she snoozed in the middle. But right now she was wide awake and reality was catching up with her imagination. 

Keith's hands were usually covered in paint and oil, kind of dirty. But she had never thought about how they'd look dark against her breasts in the half light from the street lamp outside her bedroom window. She'd never thought about the roughness of his fingertips skimming over her bare legs. She'd never let herself think about it because she knew it would be too much and she might never stop.

He hadn't done this before and she could kind of tell, but didn't care. Keith was the last of the fucking romantics, saving himself for true love or some shit. She didn't want to think too hard about what that meant. 

Her clothes were finally all off, even the damn bra. Then they're laying down which is both great and terrifying. And her bed really was too small for two people. There was a lot of "ouch," "sorry, sorry, sorry," "move your elbows, then!" and stifled laughter in the dark.

But when he pulled her on top of him and stared at her like she was the Sistine Chapel (she listened to his art lectures, sometimes), it didn't seem so bad. Maybe she could get used to this after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, the 80s. I came close to giving this a title from the lyrics in "Never Gonna Give You Up." ;-) since it came out the same year as this movie. It was just a bridge to far, in the end.
> 
> According to one earlier version of the script, Keith is Watts's first kiss and presumably, first everything. I like my head cannon better.
> 
> I watched many, many John Hughes movies growing up. This is one of his lesser known ones (he wrote it, but did not direct) but it's always been my favorite. It has quite a few cheestastic moments, but I think it's held up a lot better than most. Like a lot of things from childhood, it's very deeply embedded in my brain. I even quote it without realizing it. I hope to write an original female character as awesome as Watts someday.
> 
> But I wasn't inspired to write fic until a few years ago, when Entertainment Weekly posted a few really sweet pictures of Eric Stoltz and Mary Stuart Masterson in one of their reunion issues. If you're a fan of the movie, you should definitely look it up.


End file.
